Or rather, assisted in the breaking of a Guinness World Record. I was number 213 of 349 haircuts — and it was actually a really nice cut. And fun, too.
October, 2009
8
Oct 09
At least Bob Cratchit had a lump of coal.
I am a valued employee. (Except of course that I’m not.)
A while ago I tweeted about the TWO SERVERS on my desk, right? I’m not sure I ever posted a follow-up, but it took two months to remove them. TWO MONTHS. One month for each server. (Apparently.) Now the lights are burnt out in my windowless, cell-like office…and no one is fixing them. And I’ve let people know. Repeatedly. But the glow from my monitor has been deemed light enough for working, at least for me.
I am being moved next month to a new location, and while I had been looking forward to this move — you know, fewer people eating at my desk, maybe, and even the possibility that I might have a more ergonomic desk set-up — but I’ve found out that it will be even smaller, equally windowless, will still contain two commercial freezers, and I won’t even have a desk. A DESK. I won’t even have a desk!
They are seating me at a stainless steel prep counter.
Let that sink in for a minute.
A stainless steel prep counter.
That’s totally, like 100% ergonomic, right? And won’t say, be freezing cold at all times, either. Right?
I’m beginning to wonder if I will be allowed to have a chair.
Here’s the thing. I write the checks. I compile the financial statements. I am a pretty important part of the business (or I should be) — no one else does my job, and when the last bookkeeper quit without notice, it took six weeks to find a replacement. But it’s like they don’t want me to come to work. They make it as difficult (and as physically uncomfortable) as possible to work for them.
And yet I still go to work. It’s boggling, isn’t it?